


Muddy Water

by banerising



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Choking, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, Incest, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, Underage Pickles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banerising/pseuds/banerising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New dealer, Pickles indulges in some secret fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddy Water

**Author's Note:**

> Note on the underage thing. Pickles is 17. That is underage in most states. Seth is about 20-23.

While this wasn't the first time he was high, this certainly was the first time he had been languidly high in his own room.

 

Dylan-- no, he was  **Pickles** now-- even his own mother called him that. The frigid bitch.

 

But today was about something else, he had to stop letting his mind wander. Instead he grabbed his brother's headphones from his room, not giving a single shit what Seth would do if Seth had really actually missed those headphones.

 

He had also grabbed a hold of one of his brother's cassettes and just walked back to his room above the garage. They had carelessly shoved him out there after the garage had been fixed and he swore it was just a constant reminder that he had fucked up by burning it down in the first place-- even though he was innocent.

 

With a grit of his teeth, he shoved the headphone jack into place and slid the cassette into his new player. Pickles settled back onto his bed, hitting play and starting to light up the joint.

 

It was a slow burn, but it cut through his alcohol so much easier than the other lame shit he had been lifting off Seth in small amounts. Pickles rolled the joint over his fingers, wondering if the guy he bought this off of had actually cut the weed with anything-- after all, this guy had been towns away and didn't know anybody in Bumfuck, Wisconsin and while that had been the point... That also meant that Pickles didn't know him or his crew or any of the other shit.

 

He figured what's the worst that could happen if he really had more than just weed in this joint? In his baggie in his backpack, tucked neatly behind him.

 

The thick smoke burned his lungs, threatening to make him choke and cough and hack. The exit of the smoke didn't just threaten him, he wound up coughing and gasping, his body being racked with just a terrible cough until it was all out of his system-- and then some. Even after he lied on his back, hand fumbling numbly into his jeans, Pickles could feel another weak cough escape through his nose, making tears prick and then fall from the corners of his mouth.

 

Shit weed. Maybe he was wrong to pay the price he did.

 

Tina Turner's words sharp and smooth crooned him from his panic, even while he takes a shot of his inhaler.

 

Pickles decided he didn't care about the harsh quality of his hash, he just took another drag and settled further into his skin.

 

He bounced his foot in tune with the slow song, the rhythm slowly washing over his nerves while he took another hit. He tried not to be a pussy again, but it was always hard with weed you weren't familiar with.

 

An exhale, a small coughing fit, a shot of his inhaler, the slow drums against his nerves, and a swig of whatever he had left over from last night with shaking hands became his new cycle until the joint was no longer. Slowly the world finally shifted into something that Pickles could be comfortable in.

 

Numb, he felt the inhaler in his palm before looking at it, raising his hand and arm above his head while the chords of a Led Zeppelin song pulled his muscles in all sorts of directions. Pickles slowly turned the small, life saving device in his grip before he pushed it into his pocket. He had a feeling he wouldn't be needing it for the rest of the night.

 

Time passed without the conscious mind of Pickles. The day had gone from gloomy and threatening to snow, to just pure darkness outside his window. By this point, the cassette had been played twice and his high was pulling him under in a new and unfamiliar way.

 

Even if he wanted to panic, Pickles was sure the high wouldn't let him.

 

His tongue came out to tease along the bottom of his lip as Rush blanketed him. He felt vaguely horny, as he usually did when he got this high, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to move his limbs.

 

Slowly his head tilted to the side and he looked at the latch door on the floor, letting himself start to fantasize. It was a fucked up fantasy he had often, one he  **never** shared with his sobering moments-- or rather, the moments he had when he was as close to sober as he could be these days.

 

Seth was pissed. His brother nearly slammed the latch door onto the floor as it swung open with force. Pickles' eyes watched his brother's twisted, ugly and angry face rise from the floor like The Lady in the Lake would, threatening and forbidding with pure, unadulterated rage.

 

Seth, then, would walk across the floor, not noticing that Pickles' right hand had become active, working on a mind of its own; and he would start yelling at Pickles, as if the younger teen could actually hear him.

 

Pickles bit harshly on his lower lip as he palmed himself lazily through his jeans, his hair thrown around his head against his lumpy mattress. Seth would still yell, until he would just go cold and still, obviously waiting for Pickles to say something or to react, other than just stare at his older brother like some fuck toy.

 

His breath caught in his throat. Seth would reach down, to choke Pickles perhaps or to rip off the headphones.

 

As soon as the music stopped, he stared at his brother with raised eyebrows as if to see what his brother wanted. Pickles tilted his head back, showing his neck in subtle submission, or perhaps as a challenge-- it wasn't easy to tell with Pickles. Sometimes, it was one and on other days, it was the latter.

 

Seth's hand would wrap around his throat and start to choke him as The Doors came on--

C'mon baby, light my fire

C'mon baby, light my fire

\-- echoing from the discarded headphones.

 

Pickles moaned and squeezed himself through his jeans and arched uselessly against his brother's hands around his throat.

 

It only made Seth press harder, officially cutting off air supply and making Pickles dizzier, raising him from cloud nine to the outer reaches of the atmosphere. The edges of the world blurred and then darkness started to seep in from the corners of his eyes as Pickles just rubbed himself harder, weakly thrusting his hips against his hand.

 

Before he could actually get off, or before he could pass out; Seth pulled his hands away from Pickles' throat and he would see Pickles' hand gripping at his cock through his jeans.

 

"Fuckin sick." Seth hissed quietly but he didn't leave.

 

He never did.

 

The hand in his hair was harsh and unforgiving, just as Seth's tired rage was, and Pickles was lifted from the lumpy mattress to meet his brother's gaze. "What the fuck do you think you're doin, Dylan?" The forced out name had Pickles irritated.

 

Pickles gripped at Seth's stupid Metallica t-shirt and struggled against the hand in his hair.

 

The slap was sharp, always the back of Seth's right hand. It stung and had Pickles throbbing in his jeans, making a mess as wetness spread from the tip of his cock to the inside of his y-fronts. At this rate, he would probably cum if Seth kept roughing him up like this-- as always.

 

After turning his head back to look at Seth, Pickles licked his lower lip and he was dropped back onto the bed. Once again, Seth called him sick, but his brother was dropping to his knees between Pickles' open legs.

 

"You're such a fuckin slut."

 

"Yea, I am." Pickles moaned and shot to grab at himself.

 

Seth smacked his hand away and moved to get Pickles out of his jeans, his hands unforgiving and yanking. When Pickles managed to kick out of his jeans, Seth wrapped a hand around his little brother's dick and squeezed until Pickles cried out in a sharp mixture of pain and pleasure.

 

And then he kept squeezing.

 

At least, he kept squeezing until tears came to Pickles' eyes and he clawed at Seth's arm. When Seth released his dick, Pickles gasped for breath like he had been choked and threw an arm around his face instead of fighting against his brother, or leaving.

 

"Fuckin like that shit?" Seth spat.

 

It made Pickles' abused dick twitch with such sick pleasure. Pickles moved his arm up his forehead until his eyes were uncovered and he made eye contact with Seth, biting on his lower lip and looking entirely feminine like this-- he knew it and he knew it drove Seth up the wall.

 

Seth had ripped open his own jeans and yanked out his cock.

 

Sometimes, Pickles would imagine Seth just taking him without actually fondling at his hole until the burn wouldn't be overbearing-- but it seemed like tonight, Seth was more forgiving than Pickles' usual fantasies.

 

His brother’s fingers wretched open his younger brother's mouth and shoved three of them into that sweet, beautiful mouth. Pickles closed his eyes, his face becoming a sheet of pink while he sucked sinfully on his brother's fingers, like they were his saving grace.

 

It drove Seth mad. Pickles could tell because he could hear Seth jerking his cock, it made a slightly wet noise near the head-- it seemed like Seth was  _ really _ turned on by his brother being a whore.

 

"Should'a known my fuckin brother would be a fuckin faggot." Seth said with venom in his tone, as if he wasn't a fag for wanting to fuck his own brother.

 

His tongue flicked against the tips of Seth's fingers and his eyes opened again, shadowed still by his arm. Pickles made eye contact with his brother, his own eyes burning with a hazy lust while he started to bob his head up and down on the long fingers in his mouth. He worshiped these fingers as best as he could with his mouth. No matter his fantasy, Pickles  **_always_ ** worshiped his partner's fingers and hands.

 

Hands were just so beautiful.

 

Seth made this low and cut off noise of pleasure as they maintained eye contact before he yanked his hand back, a finger quickly moving to Pickles' hole and pushing in.

 

It didn't burn, per say, but it was uncomfortable already. Seth's finger went into the first knuckle before he pulled his finger away and shoved in two fingers. Pickles' body accommodated both better than Seth could have realized.

 

Pickles twisted his head to the crook of his elbow and let out a loosely tied together sentence-- mostly swearing and encouragement to have his brother continue on. Seth took the encouragement well, shoving his third finger into Pickles’ tight, but accepting hole and started fucking him.

 

Writhing under his brother’s quick, sharp, but ultimate shallow thrusts, Pickles felt the build way too goddamn slow for his taste and he wrapped his hand around his hard cock, jerking himself as best as he could with Seth’s untimed and disjointed thrusts.

 

Seth growled out something that Pickles couldn't quite make out-- whether it was because Seth said it through his teeth, or because Pickles was just too high off his ass. Either way, Pickles ignored it in favor of continuing to jerk himself off while his brother finger fucked him.

 

When the fingers disappeared out of him, Pickles looked at his brother with his best innocent 'but why' face and that earned him a sharp punch in the thigh. Pain spread across his thigh and had him moving his hand away from his dick. Seth went from hitting to stroking the spot before he shoved his three fingers back into Pickles' tight hole, making Pickles feel weirdly full and then Seth just decided he was done prepping his brother. He pulled his fingers out and spread as much of his precum over his longer and slightly fatter cock, then he pressed the head to Pickles' hole. It took a little bit of coaxing from Seth, gentle shoves and then nails in the skin to have Pickles spread his legs and even hook one of Seth's shoulder as Seth pushed his cock deeper into his brother's sinfully tight hole.

 

Pickles had turned his head away again, flushed just past his chin and drawing attention to the feminine looking neck. It was slender, bruising now due to Seth's hard grip earlier, and if you watch led close enough you could see the defined Adam's apple. Seth smirked down at Pickles, "don't you turn your head away from me, Dylan." Seth sneered, but sounding breathless enough for Pickles to know that his older brother wasn't unaffected as Seth was trying to be.

 

After all, the hard cock in his ass always was a damn good giveaway that Seth was just as much of a fag that Pickles was.

 

Deciding that he didn't want to give Seth any satisfaction, Pickles kept his face hidden against the crook of his arm while he rocked his hips a little, to encourage his brother.

 

The fist was fast and blunt to his stomach, causing Pickles to jolt and whip his head to stare haughtily at his brother, pain causing his dick to twitch despite himself. "What the fuck?" Pickles snapped.

 

"I said don't turn your fuckin head away from me, Dylan." Seth said, sounding cocky as ever. As much as Seth liked to go on and on about Pickles being a fag, his brother sure as hell liked watching Pickles' face when he was being fucked.

 

That wasn't new, but Pickles liked being watched anyway. He always liked to make eye contact and bite his lower lip, to pretend that his fantasy partner was his first time and really just that good.

 

And sometimes, his partners-- fantasies-- were that good. But usually, it was just show. Even in his own damn head.

 

Besides, Pickles liked to think he looked hot as fuck playing coy.

 

Seth's fingers brushed over the spot he hit, a lame apology for even hitting Pickles. But, it didn't last long and his hand moved to Pickles' hip, his short and blunt nails dug into Pickles' skin-- eliciting a moan from the redhead as Seth thrust in further.

 

"Shit, lil bro." Seth hissed quietly.

 

That was new. Oh well.

 

Pickles licked at his lips and then decided to do something new with this fantasy, since Seth was jumping script anyway. He managed to get his leg down from Seth's shoulder, giving his brother enough of a warning before the two of them shifted. Seth was now the one on his back and Pickles' slimmer, more lithe body poised over Seth.

 

They made eye contact and Pickles smirked at the redness in Seth's cheeks. He broke the eye contact to make sure that Seth was still angled right before he just sank himself on his brother's cock.

 

Even thinking that, it was so dirty and wrong and-- and... And it felt  _ so  _ **_right_ ** . Pickles tossed his head back, moaning as he sat himself on Seth's lap, his hips rolled slightly, having the cock brush up against the right spot.

 

"Fuck," it was weirdly said in unison.

 

Shit, it was sinful how his brother looked like this. All lied out on his lumpy mattress, the vague sounds of Led Zeppelin playing from the headphones,  _ Seth's fucking headphones _ \-- but the music is practically being drowned out by the sound of their fucking. The sound of his brother whimpering and moaning like a pathetic bitch.

 

It was fucking addicting to see Pickles like this.

 

Just another thing that Seth could control him with. It was fucking sick, in all the best ways.

 

Seth watched as Pickles fondled one of his pierced nipples, he reached out and dragged his nails sharply down Pickles' stomach and then grabbed a hold of his brother's cock, jerking him in short flicks of his wrist while he found a rhythm between fucking and jerking.

 

When he got it, when he angled his hips just right and jerked his hips just right, Seth got to see a different side of his brother. One he knew he wanted to keep seeing.

 

Pickles moaned, using that talented fucking singing voice of his, and writhed, gripping at his own skin and the threadbare sheet below them as tight as he could. His moans grew a bit louder, coming in shorter breaks and his asshole twitched around Seth's cock. "Shit." Seth groaned lowly and squeezed painfully at his brother's smaller dick.

 

That seemed to do the trick as Pickles became  _ achingly  _ tight around Seth's cock and his dick twitched, cum splurting out and covering his chest a bit, getting some on a nipple ring and some even in his own face.

 

Seth moaned low and deep, milking Pickles' dick for all it had while still fucking into his brother's tight little hole.

 

Pickles writhed a little, quickly becoming over sensitive to the stimulation. He made a choked noise of pleasure and squeezed around Seth's cock, and wiped at his face before it just sort of clicked. This wasn't a fantasy.

 

His entire face went red and he moaned loudly as Seth hit his sweet spot over and over again, his softening dick trying valiantly to keep hard.

 

Looking at Seth's own red face, Pickles gripped the sheets and squeezed his legs around Seth's body a bit more. Before he could process the reality of the situation more, suddenly his brother's hot cum was filling him up and his brother had this look on his face, something Pickles had never seen before and it made his upper lip curl in-- in some kind of emotion.

 

This was fucked up.

 

Seth rocked his hips a little more, his o-face changing back into his usual smug look before he looked down at Pickles. "You asked for it, Dilly-bar." He said as he slapped sharply at his younger brother's thigh and pulled out not all too nicely.

 

He shoved Pickles off of him and got up, shoving his spent dick into his jeans and bent down, grabbing a hold of the forgotten cassette player. "Thanks lil' bro." Seth grinned lecherously before he went back to the  **open** door.

 

Pickles grunted quietly as his brother pulled out and shoved him to the side, he came to the realization that he was in fact leaking out his ass now. He wondered if he could just sleep it off or if he did leave his room, would he run into his parental units?  _ Fuck that _ , fuck this-- Pickles leaned over and got another pre-rolled up joint and immediately lit up.

 

Even as he walked back, cool and smug as ever, Seth knew he had to get whatever kind of weed his shithead little brother had and make him smoke more of it. Like fuck he was going to let this opportunity slip between his fingers... He just had to find the dealer now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm a sick fuck. But if you've read my other stuff, you already know that. If you read this, you consumed it on your own time and dime, then it's on you for actually reading it so don't come complaining to me.


End file.
